


Taking a Chance

by ironxprince



Series: For Anyone But Myself [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, M/M, Original Character(s), Parent Bucky Barnes, Parent Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers Feels, Uncle Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:40:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21826072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironxprince/pseuds/ironxprince
Summary: Bucky finds a child living on the street. The only acceptable thing to do? Adopt him.An extension of chapter six of For Anyone But Myself.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: For Anyone But Myself [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1572775
Comments: 25
Kudos: 129





	1. Chapter 1

Steve paced in front of the kitchen table as Bucky sat behind it, watching him with a singular raised eyebrow. Every now and then Steve would stop, open his mouth to say something, then close it and resume pacing. Bucky sighed as he watched his boyfriend go. He couldn’t fathom why Steve was so stressed. It wasn’t like he had done anything life changing, anything that would require alterations to their current style of living.

He had just picked up a kid off the streets.

Easy as that.

“A-” Steve stopped, squeezed his eyes shut. Bucky was worried he was just going to resume pacing. “A  _ child? _ Bucky, you took a  _ child? _ ”

“Took him from where?” Bucky sighed, frustrated. “He doesn’t have parents, Steve.”

“And how do you know that?”

“He told me.”

“And you  _ believe  _ him?”

“Keep your voice down. He’s in the next room,” Bucky hissed, and Steve rolled his eyes as a hand flew up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

The moment they entered the house, Bucky had led James to sit on the couch in their living room as he spoke with Steve in the kitchen. He didn’t want the kid overhearing their conversation, but it seemed there was no risk of that. When Bucky left James he had been sitting still on the couch, eyes searching the room, seeming to widen incrementally with every new object they came across. He seemed to be amazed with the simplest of things - newspapers, books, even a  _ window _ .

The more time he spent with him, the more Bucky knew he had made the right decision in bringing James home.

Steve took a deep breath and placed his hands on the back of a chair in front of him, leaning forward. “Bucky, I don’t think you understand the responsibilities of having a child.  _ You  _ are responsible for him now, you know that? You have to buy him food, give him a bed - we only have  _ one _ , in case you haven’t noticed - send him to school, help him catch up on the years he obviously missed…. He’s  _ your  _ responsibility now, Bucky. One-hundred percent.”

Bucky scoffed lightly as he leaned back in his chair. “And here I was with the impression that he’d be  _ ours _ .”

Steve’s face fell, and he stepped away from the table. He looked out the kitchen doorway to where James was looking with amazement at the room around him, and his shoulders slumped.

“Steve,” Bucky continued quietly, talking to the man’s back. “I thought you’d be okay with this. I thought you’d understand. I mean, we both know what it’s like to be living on the streets, to be on the run.”

“Of course I understand,” Steve murmured, turning around, but keeping his distance. “It’s not like I don’t feel sorry for him. It physically hurts when I think of him…  _ cowering  _ behind that fruit stand, and - you told me he lives in an alleyway?” Bucky nodded. “This is way out of our league, Buck. We can’t take care of a  _ child _ .”

“And what do you suggest we do instead?” Bucky challenged in a harsh whisper.

“Call the authorities. Maybe they could connect us to someone who would actually  _ help _ -”

Bucky bolted upright from his chair, ignoring the loud  _ screech  _ it made across the kitchen floor. He stepped around the table so there was nothing between him and Steve except for a foot of space.

“Do you know how many times the authorities were called on me in those few years I was on the run? Do you know how many times I ducked and hid when I saw a uniform? They’d ask me where I lived, who I could go to for help, and I wouldn’t even be able to provide an answer.” Steve’s expression faltered slightly, and his eyes filled with guilt. “But you - Steve, you were  _ just like  _ James, all those years ago. You were living on the street. I watched you, every day, and I offered you asylum, but you never took it. Too proud. And at night, when the police would kick you off the park benches and you’d have to move to another street corner? When I woke up and you were gone? It  _ terrified  _ me, Steve.

“I saw James, and all I could think of was you. We can be his saving grace. We can  _ protect  _ him.”

Steve took a step back, eyes on the floor. “Times have changed. The authorities now will actually  _ help  _ him instead of forcing him away.”

“Maybe. You don’t know that.”

“Bucky, I don’t think I can be responsible for a child right now.”

Bucky squared his shoulders and raised his chin, forcing himself to be strong. He loved Steve, and maybe they would find their way through this, but right now, there was a child that needed his help.

“Well,” he said softly, “this is something I have to do.”

“We’ve been through so much, Buck. I don’t want us to split up over this.” Steve stepped forward and reached to encase Bucky’s hand in his own. “Just - just answer this. Do you want to raise the kid, or do you want to save him?”

“Why can’t I choose both?”

“Just answer.”

“They’re the same thing-”

“Bucky.”

“I  _ can’t! _ ” Bucky shouted, chest heaving. “Okay? I can’t, because I… I don’t know.”

“Buck-”

“No.” Bucky stepped back and let Steve’s hand fall from his own. “I don’t know, okay? I have no idea,” he whispered, voice harrowed. “I don’t know what I’m doing, or why I’m doing it, but I know it’s something I have to do, whether you’re with me on it, or not.”

“There are more options,” Steve whispered. “There are more options to keep him safe. You don’t have to do this on your own.”

“In my mind, there aren’t, and I do.”

Steve nodded once, inched back. “So this is it, then. You’re really going to do this.”

“I am.”

"Okay," he said softly. "But I don't think I can." Bucky's face fell. He understood doing this would be difficult - but doing it alone would be even worse. "Bet’s just… sleep on it, okay?” Steve rushed to correct. “Maybe this will all be easier to deal with in the morning.”

“He’s a child, Steve, not a problem we can expect to go away.”

Steve sighed as he shook his head, ran a hand through his hair. “I’m going to go for a walk. I need to clear my head.”

"Steve-" But he was already gone, turning and walking straight out of the kitchen. He paused momentarily in the living room and glanced to the boy sitting on the couch. Bucky thought he saw Steve’s hard expression falter, but before he could take another look Steve was gone, stepping over the threshold of the apartment and letting the door fall closed behind him. Bucky stared after him, headache growing. He placed a hand on the table and leaned heavily on it.

The silence in the apartment was deafening. Sure, he and Steve had fought before, but it was always over miniscule things: what they would eat for dinner, or who would pay for the dates they went on every so often. But usually, their thoughts were in tandem. They’ve never argued over something on as large of a scale as a child, and Bucky had no idea how to proceed.

Well, one thing at a time. Right now there was a child sitting in the other room, waiting for something to happen. A child that, now, was apparently Bucky’s to take care of, to provide for. His head reeled at the thought. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to - just, Steve’s arguments had brought the realities to the front of Bucky’s mind. A child. An honest-to-goodness human being, who was relying on Bucky. But Bucky didn’t know what he was doing!

He set his shoulders, marched into the living room, gave James the most comforting smile he could manage, and offered the first thing he could think of.

“You want ice cream?”

◉ ◉ ◉

Fifteen minutes later Bucky and James were strolling through a busier part of the city, citizens and tourists alike bustling down crowded sidewalks and jostling the pair as they moved at a leisurely pace. Bucky was supporting a scoop of mint ice cream in a cup in his right hand as his (gloved) left was holding tightly to James’ right. James was holding a vanilla cone, occasionally licking at it as he observed the store windows around them.

He hadn’t said a word since they left the apartment. Bucky had locked the door behind the pair of them before slowly offering his hand to the boy. He hadn’t realized it was the metal arm (which was a funny thing to forget - he  _ always  _ took care about it) until James grabbed it lightly. He led them to the elevator (which he usually didn’t take - too many opportunities for things to go wrong) as oppose to risking James tripping down the stairs. Bucky wasn’t sure how functional the kid’s prosthetic was, but it looked like a wooden stick attached to a velcro strap that wasn’t even large enough for him, and so he was limping as they moved.

James’ hand gripped tighter around Bucky’s as his eyes took in the mini wonders Bucky had grown used to - all the people wearing nice clothes he never got to see from his low-end street, the bridal gowns in shop windows, advertisers on every corner. He kept licking at his cone as his eyes grew wider at the world around him, and Bucky couldn’t keep the smile from his lips as he watched the amazement on the child’s face.

After another ten minutes of silent exploring, of crossing the street with Bucky’s hand clenched tightly around James’ to ensure the boy was safe, of honking cars that caused James’ head to swivel every single time, of rude strangers that, no matter how many times they bumped into James, he still smiled like they had just given him the best gift in the world, Bucky led James to a vacant park bench with overgrown potted ferns on either side and a tree providing shade above it.

For a moment they sat silently on their respective ends of the bench, hands to themselves, as they watched pedestrians pass in front of them and listened to the sounds of the street behind them.

“Why is your hand hard?”

Bucky looked away from the leaf he was watching swirl in the breeze to stare, confused, at James. “What?”

“When I was holding your hand, it was hard. Mine are soft.” He tightened the hand holding his ice cream cone for emphasis. “Are all adults’ hands hard? Will mine get hard as I get older? Do you get more bones or something?”

Bucky thought for a moment, brow furrowing. Was James talking about the gloves? They were just leather, so it wasn’t necessarily  _ hard _ -

And then, he realized. The hand James had been holding all day was his left, the metal one. How he hadn’t realized, Bucky had no idea, but that had been twice now he had forgotten about his metal arm when speaking to James.

“Oh, it’s, um….” For a moment Bucky considered lying.  _ Yes, you grow more bones in your hands as you get older.  _ It’s not like the kid would know any better-

Wrong.

This was… James was Bucky’s kid now. Bucky would teach him better.

“Here, look at this.” Bucky pulled the glove from his right hand and offered it to James, who took it gingerly, then began to squeeze it gently.

“It’s just like mine.”

“Yeah.” Bucky chuckled quietly. “Adults are just like you, but… bigger. Now, look at this.”

Bucky reached his flesh hand for his covered metal one, then froze. Did he really want to reveal this? To a  _ child?  _ He figured it would be frightening enough, to see a man with metal for a hand, even worse if the kid knew about the Winter Soldier and connected the dots - but it was too late now. The glove was coming off.

Bucky dropped the glove to his lap and kept his eyes on the gleaming metal. He kept his hand limp, fingers angled down toward the bench, not a threat, and he waited for…  _ something _ . An audible gasp, screaming, running away. Why did he let Steve leave? He wasn’t equipped to do this, and  _ definitely  _ not alone. What was he  _ thinking _ -

“That’s so cool.”

Bucky froze. He slowly lifted his eyes to James, who looked hypnotized by the arm, and his hand not holding the ice cream cone was drifting toward it, like he wanted to touch it, but was unsure if he was allowed. “What happened to your hand?” he asked with the curiosity only a child could have.

“Oh. I, uh… I lost it.”

“How?”

_ Damn, kid _ , Bucky wanted to say.  _ You’re not scared? You’re just… intrigued? _

“I... was in a fight.” Because you didn’t talk to a kid about war, right?

James’ eyes widened in astonishment. “Must’ve been a big fight.”

“Oh.” Bucky chuckled. “Yeah. The other guys had… really big weapons.”

“Wow.” James reached his hand for Bucky’s, then froze and looked up at him with wide, questioning eyes. Bucky smiled softly before nodding once, and James carefully placed his hand on the back of Bucky’s, stroked his tiny fingers along the chinks in the metal. Bucky held his breath as he fought not to move. There was a child next to him, a child sitting beside him, with his hands on his arm, on the  _ metal  _ arm, the one that was used to maime, to  _ kill _ -

No.

No, not now. He would not freak out. He would not think these thoughts now, because they weren’t  _ true _ . They weren’t a possibility. He would not hurt this child - not now, not ever.

In that moment, Bucky made a promise to himself. Although he didn’t know much, although he didn’t know his last name or even his age, although he only knew the child for a day, Bucky knew he would protect James no matter what. He would not hurt James - he refused to.

James was his, his to protect, and he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him.

“This is cool,” James murmured, still inspecting the arm.

“Really?” Bucky chuckled. “I’m glad you think so.”

“And does this mean….” Slowly, James reached his arm to Bucky’s sleeve and began to tug at it.

“What’re you doing, bud?”

“Is it the whole arm?” James asked, still working on the sleeve - but it wasn’t moving much.

Bucky cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, it is.”

“So it’s like my leg.”

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat as his eyes shot down to the boy’s pant leg, the prosthetic visible between the tatters. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t made the connection earlier.

“Um, uh-” He cleared his throat, tearing himself out of his thoughts. “Yeah. Mm. Yeah, it’s….”

“Cool,” James whispered, eyes wide, and Bucky felt as though his heart was melting.

◉ ◉ ◉

A moment more on the bench and their ice creams were finished. Bucky stood, burying his gloves in his pockets and offering his bare hand out to James, who took it with a wide grin. They continued down the street, James practically skipping and tugging on Bucky’s arm as he swung back and forth - until slowly, the movement subsided. Bucky just figured the child was getting tired, until he reached a crosswalk, when James’ hand slipped from his grip.

“James?” Bucky asked, looking down, but James had stopped walking and was waiting a few steps behind him. He was looking down the street that branched off to their right, shoulders slumped - and he wasn’t responding to when Bucky called his name.

Bucky dropped to a knee in front of James and put his hand gently on the kid’s shoulder. “James. Hey, you alright? What’s going on?”

James took a shaky breath. “I don’t want to go back.”

“Back- back where? I don’t-” Bucky looked down the street, and took in the vendor’s stands, the merchandise - and then, further down, the police tape. The scattered fruits. The broken stands. And there, just in the distance, he could make out the entrance to the alleyway James used to call home.

James thought Bucky was bringing him back.

“James. Look at me.” James raised his eyes to Bucky’s, and they were wide and red, brimming with tears. “You’re not going back there,” Bucky said quietly, not once letting his eyes stray from the kid’s. “This wasn’t just a- a day trip. I’m taking you  _ home _ , okay? To the apartment. Your new home, as long as you want.”

James sniffled. “Really?”

Bucky squeezed his shoulder gently and smiled softly. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Really. As long as you want. It’s your new home, now, alright? I wouldn’t have offered it if I hadn’t meant it.”

James lowered his gaze. “You were going to call the police. I heard you talking, The other man - he left because he didn’t like me. Did he- is he going to make me leave? Are you-”

Bucky was going to  _ murder  _ Steve.

“Never,” he interrupted, shaking his head with surety. “Never, never. The other man - his name’s Steve - he’s just… worried. He’s unsure. That’s all. But you… you’re home now. Don’t forget that.”

James looked at Bucky, his eyes squinted slightly. Finally, he sighed. “Okay.”

“Good,” Bucky said with a quick nod of the head, pushing himself to his feet and offering his hand to James once more. “Now, let’s head home.”

◉ ◉ ◉

There was a piece of paper sitting on the kitchen table when they returned to the apartment.

_ I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I’ll be staying at the tower with Tony for a few days. I’ll be home soon. _

_ -Steve _

Bucky sighed, crumpling it up and stuffing it in his pocket for later. He didn’t want to think about it right now.

He showed James how the shower worked and allowed the boy to wash himself, giving him one of his larger shirts for when he finished. It would look like a nightgown on the kid - he was so small - but Bucky couldn’t find anything better at the moment. He helped James climb into bed, Bucky’s own bed, and left the bedroom (with the door open) to see James staring out the window at the setting sun.

As Bucky lay back on the couch in the living room, he unfolded the page from his pocket and stared, unreading, at the words, developing a plan for the next day.

Honestly, it was about time he visited Tony Stark.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I'm really not feeling this story (as you can probably tell by the bad writing), but something's compelling me to finish it. Can you tell I'm not used to writing domestic lifestyles?

Bucky woke with a stiff back and a kink in his neck. Sleeping on the couch shouldn’t have affected him so much - he had slept outside for months at a time in the past, after all - but downgrading from a large, comfortable bed to a couch that wasn’t even pull-out was much harder than upgrading.  _ At least James had slept comfortably _ , Bucky hoped as he stood and stretched, yawning as he dropped his arms and took a heavy step toward the bedroom.

Bucky nudged the door open wide enough to peak in, and he caught sight of James, already sitting upright on the bed - kneeling, Bucky should say - facing the window, his hands placed carefully in his lap. Bucky’s brow furrowed as he held his breath in order not to disrupt the kid, and he leaned against the doorframe, but the loud  _ creak  _ that emitted as a result of the poor infrastructure alerted James.

He stiffened and turned suddenly, but he relaxed when he saw Bucky, and he smiled slightly.

“Morning,” Bucky greeted. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. What’re you up to?”

James turned and looked back out the window to where sun was beginning to shine through, casting the room in a golden glow.

“Um… praying, I guess,” he muttered. Bucky’s eyes widened marginally in surprise, and he cleared his throat as he repositioned himself.

“Oh,” he managed to say, before mentally shaking himself and yelling at himself to  _ get it together _ . “That’s, um… that’s great. It’s cool. Who… who are you praying to, if you don’t mind me asking?”

James shrugged. “Anyone who’s listening, I guess. I see people kneel when they pray, so I do that, and I also face the sun, because it seems… powerful. Like it can help me.”

“Well, that’s… that’s great,” Bucky said honestly, taking a step into the room. “It’s good to have something to believe in. So you believe someone’s out there, listening?”

“I-I don’t know if it’s one God or multiple, but….” He shrugged again. “I hope so.”

Bucky crossed the room slowly to take a seat on the bed, beside James. “I can’t believe I didn’t ask this before, but… how old are you, James?”

James looked down for a moment, thinking, and Bucky’s heard broke just a little bit more at the thought of someone so young having to pause to consider their age.

“Eight… I think. Yeah, and then in September, I’ll be nine.”

“You’re very young to be thinking those thoughts, James,” Bucky said quietly. James just dropped his gaze.

Bucky sighed as he pushed himself up from the bed. “I was thinking we could go out today. See a friend.”

“A friend?” Bucky didn’t miss the fear that crept its way into James’ voice.

“A nice friend. Very smart. Has a lot of cool, uh, toys you could play with.” Sentient robots and artificial intelligence that could show emotions counted as  _ toys _ , right?

“Oh.” James slid off the bed to stand upright. “Okay.”

“Great.” Bucky turned to leave, then froze and turned back. “Um… do you want another shirt to change into? I know they’re really big, and there’s absolutely nothing I own that would fit you-”

Bucky was interrupted by a child barreling into him, wrapping his arms around his stomach.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.”

“Oh,” Bucky said quietly, slowly moving lifting his arms to wrap around James’ shoulder. “Well… you’re welcome.”

◉ ◉ ◉

45 minutes, one subway ride, and an oversized Oasis t-shirt (bought used) later, Bucky and James stood at the secret back entrance to the tower, awaiting facial recognition from JARVIS. It was given almost immediately, and the doors slid open directly to an elevator waiting to take the pair up to Tony’s private floors. Bucky let James go ahead of him with a comforting, and, he was surprised to admit, protective hand on his back. Together, they watched the city grow small beneath them through the one-sided glass.

Over the gentle sounds of  _ Wonderwall  _ playing in the elevator (did Tony program JARVIS to recognize band t-shirts? Bucky wouldn’t be surprised) JARVIS’ voice spoke gently.

“Would you like me to alert Sir you’re here?”

“Um….” Bucky looked down to James as he considered. Telling Tony would mean telling Steve, and Bucky was still nervous Steve would flee. “How about no.”

The rest of the elevator ride was completed in silence with the occasional shocked gasp from James as he located something new in the New York City skyline, his shoulders quivering with excitement. Finally, the elevator came to a stop, and Bucky turned so they could face the doors when they opened, pulling a suddenly wide-eyed, frightened James beside him.

“He’s a friend,” Bucky murmured soothingly, rubbing his hand gently along James’ arm. “It’s alright. I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you.”

Bucky didn’t know where the words had come from, but they left him shocked as James’ quivers subsided beneath his arm. The elevator doors opened before Bucky could contemplate it, and he was left standing frozen as Tony appeared on the other side of the doors, the man halting before he could take another step across the room. He stopped, turning to the open door with a single cocked eyebrow, eyeing Bucky suspiciously, before he caught sight of James… and Bucky’s arm around him.

His eyes widened slightly as he took in the sight of James trying to inch his way behind Bucky’s back, and his mouth opened, but no words came out. Finally he managed to mutter, “And who’s this?”

“Hello to you, too, Stark.” Bucky withdrew his arm from around James’ shoulder to step ahead of the boy and lead him into the tower. James followed quickly, latching on to Bucky’s hand and squeezing tightly. Bucky couldn’t help but wonder why he was so scared of Tony, and not of the man who he was suddenly living with after one conversation (if you could even call it that).

The elevator doors had opened directly into the kitchen, and so Bucky moved to take a seat at the table, James climbing his way to a chair beside him. Tony stood against the counter, eyeing them both - but especially James - analytically.

“Hey, Tony.”

“Barnes. What are you doing here?” Tony asked, not unkindly.

“Sorry to barge in on you, but-”

“How old is he?”

Bucky blanched. “What?”

“Oh. Sorry.” Tony leaned forward, squinted eyes focused solely on James. “How old are you?”

James immediately sat up straighter when he realized Tony was talking to him. “I- I’m, uh- e-eight, Sir.”

Bucky looked down, and stiffened. James’ face had gone pale, his back rigid, and eyes wide as he stared at Tony. Tony remained frozen as he analyzed the kid.

“James?” Bucky whispered as he leaned over, putting Tony out of his mind. James didn’t look like he could do the same. “Hey. C’mon, buddy. Look at me. You alright?”

With difficulty, James tore his eyes away from To ny to look at Bucky, terrified. “Y-yes, Sir,” he whispered, and Bucky stiffened.

And, as if his sole purpose was to stress Bucky out more than he already was, Steve walked in at that very moment, one hand in the pocket of his track pants, the other holding a cup of coffee.

“Hey, Tony, I-”

And then silence. Long, awkward silence - punctured only by the sounds of James’ hyperventilating.

Bucky’s head shot to the side as the sound of James’ pained breaths. He was hunched over, hands scraping against his chest as his eyes widened. Bucky lifted his arms to help, but he didn’t know what to do. James was growing more visibly aggravated, gasps coming out quicker, tears streaming down his face.

Bucky’s chest grew tight as the world centred around James’ face, his wide eyes all Bucky could see. The rest of planet earth had faded from his vision, and so he didn’t notice Steve approaching until he was being pulled back, until Steve was taking his place beside James, until Tony was kneeling on the kid’s other side.

Bucky wanted to help, but he was frozen in place. Useless. Steve placed a hand on James’ back and another over his chest, rubbed soothing circles. Tony spoke instructions,  _ deep breaths _ ,  _ in and out _ ,  _ with me _ . Bucky could only watch.

The world was centred around James’ face - but suddenly, the picture grew to include Steve, Steve’s comfort and caring, the way he only had eyes for James, the way James was staring back with obvious trust in his eyes. The way Steve’s first instinct was to step in and help, to get as close to James as he could and provide support in any way possible.

The absence of hurried breathing pulled Bucky back to reality, and he blinked the fog from his vision to see James, tears in his eyes as he blinked down at a softly smiling Steve, Tony looking distraught on his opposite side - but any hint of negative emotions vanished from Tony’s face as the boy turned his gaze to him, and it morphed into a smile. James bit down, hard, on his lip.

“My father….” he whispered, and the three men leaned in closer. “You’re just like my father.”

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat as Tony’s unsure eyes flickered to his for a moment. “What do you mean, buddy?”

James took a shuddering breath. “He had a- a big house, and expensive stuff, and lots of money, and he-” James’ shoulders began to quiver with the weight of his emotions, and Steve reached up a hand to rub soothingly along them. “He would hit me,” James whispered as a single tear streamed down his cheek. “But Mama didn’t know. He didn’t tell her and he said if I did-” James cut himself off with a sob. Bucky saw Tony lean back slightly, an emotion he could only identify as fear crossing his features.

“He convinced my Mama-” James sniffled. “He convinced her to let him bring me to my Auntie, and Uncle, a-away from them. He said he and Mama couldn’t handle me, but he- he dropped me on the street. I didn’t know which way was home, but he- he said if I ever found my way back….” James dropped his gaze, his statement uncompleted, and silence rang loud throughout the room. Bucky’s heart was beating loudly in his ears. He saw Steve’s jaw stiffen, but the man forced himself to relax, to keep running soothing circles into James’ upper back.

“I’m so sorry, James,” Steve said quietly, and James raised his eyes slowly to meet Steve’s. “That’s horrible. But Tony here- Tony isn’t like that. At all, okay? He’s a friend, and he’ll take care of you.”

“We all will,” Bucky added, and Steve turned to face him and give him a soft smile. “James, we’ll never let anyone hurt you. Never.”

James turned his head to face Tony, who swallowed the fear on his face to give him a smile. “I’d never think of it, kid.”

James nodded once. “Okay,” he whispered shakily, almost disbelieving - but it was some sort of progress, some kind of good sign, Bucky assumed.

“Barnes,” Tony called over James’ head. “A moment?”

Tony stood and Bucky followed suit, allowing himself to be led out of the kitchen, his final sight being Steve comforting James in front of the kitchen table.

Tony turned sharply to face Bucky as soon as they were out of earshot. “What? A  _ kid? _ ”

“He was on the street,” Bucky said quietly with a shrug of his shoulders as if to say,  _ what else could I have done?  _ “And you heard the story about his parents. He clearly needs help, Tony.”

Tony looked around Bucky to James in the next room, worrying his lip. “I guess I can’t tell you whether or not to adopt - or, uh, just pick up a kid off the streets. But he’s  _ eight? _ And he’s been living on the street all this time?” Bucky shrugged, and Tony sighed. “What’s going on with his leg?”

“I’m not sure yet. Haven’t asked. I just found him yesterday-”

“ _ Yesterday? _ And you’re already taking him to visit his uncles?” he mocked. “Wait. yesterday, when Steve came over?” Bucky nodded slowly. “Barnes, what’s going on?”

Bucky sighed as he fiddled with his fingers in front of him. “Steve said he didn’t want to care for James, but I couldn’t exactly just bring him back, y’know? Even if I wanted to. But I… I don’t think I can do it without him. I mean, you know me. I can’t take care of a  _ child _ .”

A small smile ghosted Tony’s lips as he looked somewhere behind Bucky. “You sure he doesn’t care for the kid?”

Bucky turned, confused, and saw Steve, kneeling beside James as the kid sat on a chair at the kitchen table, playing with the saltshakers that sat in the centre of the table and… putting on a show. As Bucky watched, James giggled, and Steve smiled at the sound, pleased with himself.

Bucky turned back to Tony, a smile seemingly fixed to his features.

“I’ll give you a minute,” Tony said quietly with a smirk. “And I’m going to go see what I can do about that horrible prosthetic. Is that even regulation? Poor kid limps instead of walks,” he muttered to himself as he disappeared down the hallway. Bucky took a deep breath before turning back to face the kitchen.

Steve had moved to sit in a chair beside James and was watching the kid intently as he spoke. Bucky approached the table and took a seat on James’ other side in time to hear him say, “... and she brought me bread, every day. But she was old and her hair was gray, and she was always coughing. And one day she stopped coming.” Bucky gnawed on his lip. He didn’t know why or how this conversation had come up, whether it was Steve’s doing or the kid’s, but just hearing the tail end of it was too much - but it was nothing compared to what James said next.

“She’s dead, isn’t she?”

Bucky’s face fell, and he met Steve’s wide-eyed expression over the kid’s head.

Bucky cleared his throat. “Um… probably, James. I’m sorry.”

James shrugged. “‘S fine,” he mumbled as he drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “That’s life.”

If Bucky had been drinking, he was sure he would’ve done a spit take.

_ That’s life?  _ What kind of child just… said that?

Surprisingly, what he said next was even more shocking.

“That man…  _ Tony _ ,” he continued. “He doesn’t have a good dad, does he?”

Steve leaned in closer to James. “I’m sorry - what?”

“When I was talking about my dad, he looked scared, and then he leaned away, like he didn’t want to make me nervous. He doesn’t want to be like his dad.”

Bucky choked on his saliva.

And he didn’t even think that was possible.

“ _ What?  _ James, how… how’d you figure that out?”

James kept his head down and continued to play with his fingers on the tabletop as he shrugged, as if it was no big deal. “Tony’s clear about his emotions.”

Steve scoffed. James looked up to him, and he quickly controlled himself. “Sorry.” A beat of silence. “James… you’re very smart.”

James shrugged again. “All I did on the street for two years was watch people. I learned how to read them.”

“Can you read me?” Steve asked with a twinge of uncertainty. James looked up at him, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“You’re nervous about something. You have to make a decision but you don’t know what to do.”

Steve’s mouth fell open. “Um….” He composed himself, sat up straighter. “Wow. Good. Okay.”

Bucky set his shoulders and cleared his throat, eyeing Steve carefully. “What about me, James?”

James turned to Bucky and narrowed his eyes slightly. For a moment, the two stared at each other, and neither said a word. It was taking James a moment longer to read Bucky.

“I… don’t know,” he said quietly. “I think… I think it’s what they call love.”

Bucky’s expression softened as he stared at James, then moved his eyes up to Steve, and nodded once.

“Yeah,” he said quietly as he watched the corners of Steve’s lips raise slightly in a smile. “Yeah, I think that’s what they call it.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's not the best piece of writing, but if you made it this far, I hope you enjoyed <3

“So,” Tony called loudly as he re-entered the kitchen, oblivious to the tension. “I found this. It’s just one of Rhodes’ prototypes, but until I can make a better one….”

He held up the prosthetic he had brought from his workshop. It was fancy and silver and so much better than James’ current one. Bucky watched James’ eyes light up as he scampered down from his chair and hurried around the table to take a closer look. As he moved Bucky focused on his current wooden prosthetic, the way James was limping in order to use it properly, the sounds of it creaking under his weight

Bucky couldn’t be more grateful to Tony.

Tony crouched and held the prosthetic out to the boy, who looked at it with awe.

“It’s sturdier,” Tony explained. Once it’s on I can adjust it so it’s better suited to your height….”

He continued on about its features as James listened intently. Bucky watched them until Steve called for his attention. Bucky turned to him with curiosity.

Steve’s eyes were unsure as he watched James. “Buck, he’s not supposed to be that small,” he whispered. Bucky looked back to James, brow furrowed.

“Are you sure? Steve, you’re -  _ we’re _ … oversized,” he said with a chuckle. “We’re not the best judges on what is and isn’t average.”

Steve shook his head. “He’s malnourished, from living on the street. I’m sure of it. I don’t know how I didn’t notice before. And that must be the first prosthetic he got, before his…  _ father  _ dropped him on the street. It’s too small. I doubt anyone’s been upgrading it.” He quieted his voice. “Buck, it’s not supposed to still fit.”

Bucky sighed as he watched James touch the prosthetic, playing with the new features, Tony laughing as he looked on. Bucky wondered if Tony would let them stay for dinner.

“You know, Stevie,” he said from the corner of his mouth to undercut the anxiety he was feeling, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re getting protective of the kid.”

Bucky could see Steve’s face flush bright red from the corner of his eye, and he smirked.

Tony helped James switch the prosthetic, and soon he was beaming, practising bending and straightening his knee as he leaned heavily on Tony for balance. Tony was smiling, but not as wide as Bucky as he watched the kid giggle. Even Steve’s eyes were alight with joy and excitement.

“Wanna try it out?” Tony asked. James only cheered in response, and Tony laughed. “Alright! Will the parents of the child please assist?” he called in a false announcer voice.

Bucky stuttered.  _ Parents?  _ He had figured…  _ guardian _ , at most, but-

Steve was oblivious to Bucky’s inner debate. He had already stood and was stepping around Bucky’s chair to approach James, arms out to support.

_ Huh _ , Bucky thought with a small smile. Maybe  _ parents  _ wasn’t so bad.

Bucky moved to settle heavily on the floor across from Tony and James. Steve stood between them, offering a hand out to James so he could remain balanced while Tony stood.

“You three staying for dinner?”

Bucky met Steve’s eyes as he slowly inched forward, helping James walk. He shrugged and gave Bucky a small smile.  _ Your choice _ . Bucky looked back to Tony.

“Yeah, we’ll stay.”

Tony turned and began to rummage through the cupboards above the stove. Bucky didn’t see what he decided on getting - James was slowly stepping closer, holding tight to Steve’s steadying hand.

“How is it?” Bucky asked, smiling, as James let go of Steve’s hand and reached forward for Bucky’s.

“Hard,” he answered with a wide smile.

“I can increase the sensitivity,” Tony called from the stove, not taking his eyes off what he was preparing.

“No!” James called quickly. “It’s good! Hard, but….” He giggled. “I can bend my knee now! And… I can walk… smoother. Is that - is that weird?”

Bucky pushed himself to his feet, guiding James back across the room to a smiling Steve as he waited, arms out, kneeling on the ground.

“No, that’s not weird, James. Before, your prosthetic… it was too small. It didn’t fit right.”

James let go of Bucky’s hand and tried to take a step on his own, but he stumbled forward into Steve’s waiting arms.

“Oh.” He turned so he was facing Bucky, but was leaning back against Steve’s chest. Steve watched him move with amusement, waiting still for the kid to settle. “So, this is mine now?”

“All yours,” Steve answered, gently squeezing James’ hand.

“Hm.” James frowned. “It’s hard. I liked it before, but now it’s just… difficult.”

“You think so?” Steve said, amused at how quickly a child’s perspective changed. Because that’s all he was. Even if James lived on the street, was malnourished and an amputee and emotionally traumatized… he was a child. “Well, sometimes you have to work through the difficulties to get to the good stuff.” He smiled up at Bucky, who blushed and looked down at the implication. “Besides, you’ll be running soon, before you know it. Probably better than I can, honestly.” James giggled. “Your…  _ Uncle  _ Tony’s got your back.”

“Speaking of,” Tony exclaimed dramatically, “Your Uncle Tony’s made you dinner.”

He walked to the table and placed two bowls of pasta atop it, then returned to the stove to grab two more. James’ eyes were wide as Steve helped guide him to the table and took a seat beside him. Bucky sat across from James and beside Tony as he set the remaining bowls down and settled in his chair.

“All for me?” James said quietly as he looked to the bowl in front of him in awe. Bucky wanted to smile, but his heart was breaking.

“Yeah, bud, all yours,” he answered, voice breaking. James looked up to Tony gratefully, his eyes wide and appreciative, before he picked up his fork, clenched it incorrectly in his fist, and began to eat messily. All Bucky could do was watch him for a moment, heart aching at how impoverished the child was.

Tony cleared his throat and Bucky startled, turning to look at him. Tony’s eyes were forward, fork held just in front of his lips. “Take care of him,” he murmured, words so quiet and body so still Bucky wondered if he had even said anything at all. Tony bit the pasta from his fork and began chewing, looking at Bucky from the corner of his eye to ensure he understood the message. Bucky nodded once and looked down to his own plate, beginning to eat.

“So, James,” Tony said lightly, a sudden change in his demeanor. “Have you given any thought to school?”

James’ eyes grew wide. “ _ School?  _ Like, with other kids?”

“Right-o. Anyone talk to you about it yet?”

James looked down, nervous. “Um… no. Am… am I going to be allowed to go?”

“Of course, kid,” Steve answered, voice a tad too high. “Whatever you want, we’ll… we’ll make sure it happens.”

Bucky froze. “We?”

“Yeah.” Steve smiled. “We.”

Bucky shovelled more pasta in his mouth to keep his goofy grin hidden.

“Alright. Thats cute,” Tony mocked. “So sweet. Glad you guys are back together. But I’d like to eat my dinner without any uncomfortable romantic tension, if that’s alright with you.”

Steve smiled into his pasta. Bucky felt himself doing the same.

“Um, Steve?” James asked. Steve hummed in acknowledgement. “Why did you leave the apartment?”

Steve’s eyes went wide and his mouth fell open. Bucky’s fork fell slack in his hand.

“I, uh….” Steve closed his eyes, shook his head minisculely. “I… had to come here. To help Uncle Tony with something.”

Tony muttered something that sounded suspiciously like  _ Don’t drag me into this _ at the same time James said, “No. You- were yelling, and then you left, but you… you looked at me before you left, and you looked scared when I came here. You were yelling because of me, weren’t you? You left because of me.”

Tony looked to Bucky, impressed. Bucky just shrugged, mainly focusing on Steve, on his response. He wasn’t going to step in. Steve had made his bed; now, he had to lie in it.

“Oh. Well, I….” Steve worried his bottom lip. Then, he sighed, conceding. “I was scared,” he confessed. “I wasn’t sure I’d be able to take care of you. I worried that I wouldn’t be able to help you, and so… I didn’t even try.” He looked up to Bucky. “That was wrong. But I ran anyway, because I didn’t want to face it. I… didn’t want to face  _ you _ . But now I think… maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.” He smiled and brought his eyes back down to James. “I’m sorry, James. I’d love to take care of you… if you’d let me.”

James thought for a moment, and the entire table held their breath.

“And Bucky.”

“Yeah.” Steve laughed and lifted his eyes up to Bucky. “We’ll take care of you. Both of us, together. Is that okay?”

James smiled wide and nodded his head vigorously. Bucky chuckled, and even Tony managed a smile at the kid before leaning over to Bucky.

“You two couldn’t even make it 24 hours in a fight,” he muttered. Bucky snorted.

“Yeah, I guess we are kind of weak minded.”


End file.
